


Sam Has the Patience of a Hyperactive Two-Year-Old, and Other Facts Dean Winchester Knows By Heart

by leonidaslion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonidaslion/pseuds/leonidaslion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshot for the prompt: oil change, candy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Has the Patience of a Hyperactive Two-Year-Old, and Other Facts Dean Winchester Knows By Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splendidsilence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidsilence/gifts).



Dean waited as long as he could before swiping his forearm across his brow: he was already going to have a hard enough time cleaning himself off without smearing oil all over his face as well. But really, it had become a choice between swiping and being blinded by his own sweat. He’d lost his shirt almost an hour ago in the hopes that it would help, but no dice.

If he hadn’t been worried about sunburns in awkward places, he’d probably be working naked right now. Fucking heat wave. The whole salvage yard felt like it had been turned into a goddamned oven. Hell was probably cooler than this.

“You done yet?”

Dean didn’t even bother looking up from his place over the Impala’s engine: he already knew what he’d see. Sam in that threadbare, dark gray shirt of his; stupid, shaggy hair damp and face shining with sweat. Sam looking good enough to drink down like a cold glass of ice water.

“It look like I’m done?” he grunted, focusing on the oil-smeared engine in front of him.

“Come on, man; you’ve been out here for hours. I know it doesn’t take that long to change oil.”

“She’s been riding a little hot,” Dean explained for what had to be the tenth time. “I’m trying to fix her before we head out tomorrow morning. Or did you _want_ to break down in the middle of the fucking desert? Cause then you can be the one to walk fifty miles in hundred degree heat to the nearest gas station.”

“Dude, chill. I just wanted to know how much longer you’d be.”

“I’ll give you a hint: the more you keep interrupting me, the longer it’ll ta—” Dean shut his mouth with a snap. He’d finally lifted his head, and Sam wasn’t wearing the grey shirt anymore.

He wasn’t wearing anything.

Sam grinned at him and Dean’s heart started up again. “Jesus Christ, Sam!” he hissed, trying to look around in all directions at once. “Where the hell are your clothes? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What if Bobby—”

“Bobby’s not coming back for at least another two hours,” Sam replied calmly, bringing his left hand out from behind his back. He was holding a plastic tray filled with … with …

“You evil bitch,” Dean growled.

Sam popped one of the buckeyes out of the plastic tray and tossed it into his mouth. “Mmmm.”

Logically, the idea of putting peanut butter and chocolate in his mouth in this heat should have been singularly unappealing. Of course, logic had never come up against Sam Winchester before. Speechless, Dean stared at his brother as Sam licked his fingers clean. Slowly. Deliberately. His pants suddenly felt uncomfortably tight.

Buckeyes and naked Sam. Naked, gleaming Sam. Chocolate. Peanut butter.

Sam selected another buckeye from the tray and rolled it across his lips. Watching Dean from underneath lowered lashes, he slowly opened his mouth and edged the buckeye in. The blissed out expression on his face as he swallowed was almost obscene.

“These’re really good,” Sam observed thoughtfully.

“Ngh,” Dean managed. His hands were wrapped around the edge of the car, and he could feel the blistering heat from the sun-baked metal, but the sensation was distant and unimportant.

“You want one?” Sam asked, and then immediately shook his head slightly. “Naw, you’re busy. Besides, you’re covered in oil. I don’t think you should eat anything until you wash your hands.” He lifted another buckeye, placing it between his lips and sucking on it with his cheeks hollowed out like … like he was …

Oh, fuck it.

Dean lunged for his brother, knocking the tray of candy out of Sam’s hand as he slammed them both up against the side of a peeling van. Sam just smiled down at him around the buckeye, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Not that Dean needed to look at his brother’s eyes to know that Sam approved of the current turn of events; he could feel the evidence pressing hard and hot against his hip.

“You fucker,” Dean snarled, and then shoved their mouths together. Chocolate and peanut butter mashed between their lips as Dean drew the buckeye into his own mouth. Sam let him have it and took the opportunity to fumble blindly at his buckle. When Dean broke the kiss to swallow the chocolate, his brother's mouth dropped open and words poured out.

“God, Dean. You have any idea how fucking hot you looked? Your hands, your goddamned _hands_ —you’re so—”

“Shut up.” Dean batted his brother’s hands out of the way and shoved his pants down on his own. “Just shut up.”

Sam made a happy little noise and grabbed Dean’s jaw, pulling him back up for another kiss. Dean let one of his hands rest on his brother’s hip, rubbing with his thumb, and gripped the back of Sam’s neck with his other. When he couldn’t taste the candy anymore—when it was just Sam _(as if it would ever ‘just’ be Sam for him)_ —Dean broke the kiss again. He felt lightheaded at the sight of the oil smudges across his brother’s skin: dark grey fingerprints all over where Dean had touched him.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” he demanded.

“Guess not.” Sam ground his hips forward, catching their cocks together and jerking a harsh exhale from Dean’s lips. “You gonna fuck me already or what?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Dean told him, his eyes still caught by the way he’d painted Sam’s skin. He thought that he’d like to mark him up a little more. Use his mouth this time.

“Yeah?” Sam panted, his face flushed. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Dean growled low in his throat and proceeded to show him.


End file.
